


Down to Brass Tracks

by sinfuldesire_archivist



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Angst, Drama, Season/Series 01
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2006-06-15
Updated: 2006-06-15
Packaged: 2018-09-03 04:44:54
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,515
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8697037
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sinfuldesire_archivist/pseuds/sinfuldesire_archivist
Summary: Sixth in the Things My Brother Taught Me series. Warnings: Wincest, strong language.





	

**Author's Note:**

> Note from the Sinful Desire archivists: this story was originally archived at [Sinful-Desire.org](http://fanlore.org/wiki/Sinful_Desire). To preserve the archive, we began importing its works to the AO3 as an Open Doors-approved project in November 2016. We e-mailed all creators about the move and posted announcements, but may not have reached everyone. If you are (or know) this creator, please contact us using the e-mail address on [Sinful Desire collection profile](http://archiveofourown.org/collections/sinfuldesire/profile).

Down to Brass Tracks

Title: Down to Brass Tacks  
Author: Hellskitten  
Email: crissyd33@yahoo.com   
Fandom: Supernatural  
Pairing: S/D  
Rating: NC-17   
Warnings: Wincest, strong language.   
Spoilers: Some from the first ten eps, but nothing huge.  
Disclaimer: The boys and all their angst-ridden hotness belong to the WB.  
Note: This is a continuation of my series and picks up right after “Wake Up Older”. Oh, and it’s clear that drvsilla and I are on the same page idea-wise, but I swear this was written long before I read her delicious story posted today.  
  
***  
  
Dean could feel Sam watching him, but he paid no attention. Sam had been watching him since he was old enough to see.   
  
They’d been on the road for 36 hours straight on their way to Nebraska at their father’s direction and about 200 miles out of Omaha, they stopped to sleep. Once they were checked into the motel du jour, Dean had gone directly into the shower where he currently stood, leaning against the cool tiled wall and enjoying the pounding of the hot water down his back.  
  
All that drama with their dad and the Roosevelt Asylum had just been too much to process for him. Dean hadn’t known what to do with it all so he’d just stuck it somewhere in his head to be dragged out and bludgeoned to death at another time. The point was, Dad was all right and Sam had decided to stay with him. Things were as right as they possibly could be for the Winchester family.  
  
Dean washed very slowly, letting the heat from the shower relax his muscles and lull him closer to being able to sleep. He’d had way too much caffeine on the road and he knew it would take awhile to wind down. Maybe he’d go out for a couple of drinks before hitting the sack. A little distance between him and Sam might be good right about now. The only communication they’d had for almost two days had been conciliatory grunts and the occasional eye roll.  
  
He dried off and wrapped the towel around his waist, opening the bathroom door onto their latest temporary digs. A gust of steam from the shower wafted into the room like dry ice in an 80’s metal video and once it cleared, Dean’s breath stopped short.  
  
Sam was stretched out on the bed nearest the bathroom, his back curved in a hard arch that made the cords of muscle stand out in his neck. His smooth young face was flushed with rushing blood and his moss green eyes were squeezed tightly shut. Sam’s jeans were undone and open over his hips and his right hand was shoved down into his shorts, vigorously pumping up and down. His long fingers tugged and rubbed at his fully engorged, well-lubed cock. Dean had come into the room just in time to watch his little brother stroke himself through a monumental orgasm.   
  
Sam held his breath as his long, slick cock lurched in his hand, ejecting two creamy jets of semen across his belly and chest. As the third blast landed on the back of his left forearm, he let out the air in his lungs in a sharp, guttural moan. It almost sounded like he was in pain, but Dean knew better. Sam used to make noises like that when he was a kid and John had successfully kept them apart for more than two days. His first orgasm after separations like that was always full of constrained energy and boiling boy lust. Dean loved that sound back in the day and it worked its wicked magic on him then, as well.   
  
He crawled on the bed next to his brother and hovered over his lean hips, watching Sam pull his shuddering cock a few more times as that deep climax ran its course. He looked at Dean, flushed and panting, and he breathed a laugh.  
  
“Oh, hey,” Sam said as though they’d just met on the street.  
  
“Hey.” Dean grinned, winked at him, then lowered his nose to his brother’s heaving tummy. He extended his tongue and lapped at a puddle of creamy seed, swallowing greedily. “Why didn’t you get in the shower with me? I would have _gladly_ taken care of this for you.”  
  
“I’d planned on it,” Sam said, still trying to catch his breath. “I was on my way in there. It was like . . . I got really hard all of a sudden, I started to take my clothes off and go in there with you, but . . . I just . . . couldn’t wait.” His fingers were slippery with come and he offered them to Dean’s waiting mouth.   
  
Lying on his belly with his arm draped over Sam’s hips, Dean sucked his brother’s wet, salty fingers with slow, sensual determination, feeling hot blood pulsing through his loins. He looked in Sam’s pretty eyes as he ran his tongue down over the web of skin between his index and middle fingers.   
  
The youngest Winchester grinned seductively. “Do I still taste like cantaloupe?”  
  
Dean nodded with twinkling green eyes and kept sucking those slick fingers.  
  
“You used to call it my ‘boy honey’,” Sam whispered. “’Member? Back when I was really young and my come was still all milky.”  
  
That pornographic memory lit Dean’s blood on fire and he sucked Sam’s fingers with greater urgency. “You’re still sweet, Sammy,” he murmured. “Sweet as a peach. You’re just creamier now.” He buried his nose in Sam’s belly, stroking the sticky skin with his tongue. He intended to lick up every drop of that salt-sugary fluid. He felt his brother’s fingers tickling the back of his neck and Dean shivered when he heard Sammy sigh.   
  
“It’s been two and a half days,” Sam whispered, his fingernails grazing Dean’s naked shoulder.  
  
“It has?” He looked up from his skin feast in genuine surprise.  
  
Sam frowned. “Dude, aren’t you horny? I’m _dying_ here.”  
  
Dean thought about it, did the math in his head and then he had to laugh. “Shit. You’re right. It has been two and a half days. Three, if you count the time Dad was with us.”  
  
“Can’t count that,” Sam said. “We did it twice in the morning. But it’s been a big-ass drought ever since, you shit. My selfish big brother is trying to break my will by starving me of his luscious body!”   
  
Dean laughed, shook his head. “Dude, I swear it wasn’t intentional. I didn’t even realize. We’ve been on the road.” He kissed Sam’s tummy just below the navel and breathed in the clean, musky scent there. Dean’s cock was throbbing by then and he reached for it as he continued to bathe his brother’s skin with his tongue.   
  
“You said you didn’t want to when I offered before we left,” Sam said, his fingers scratching through Dean’s short blond hair.   
  
He looked up long enough to answer. “I didn’t say ‘not ever’, I just said ‘not now’.”  
  
“Well,” Sam almost whined. “How long does ‘not now’ last?”  
  
Dean smirked, lowered his chin until his lips touched Sam’s wet skin again. “It’s over,” he said. “Trust me.” He opened his mouth wide enough to catch a bite of that taut belly flesh in his teeth. He knew his brother loved being bitten and manhandled when he was really aroused and clearly, really aroused was Sam’s definition of the moment.   
  
“Come here,” Sam said, sitting up and whipping the towel off Dean’s waist. He scooted forward on the bed as Dean lifted up onto his knees and in one swift gesture he had Dean’s cock nearly buried to the balls in his mouth.   
  
Already deliciously turned on, the sudden assault of moist, hot pleasure made Dean swoon a little. He held onto Sam’s shoulders for support and let his head drop back as he moaned up at the ceiling. He heard Sam groaning way down in his chest and the vibration from his deep, breathy voice rippled through Dean’s lower extremities. When his balls tightened, Sam reached for them and cradled them in his warm hand, tugging them gently to match his sucking rhythm. He enticed Dean’s body to the edge of orgasm but then he slowed his pace, backing off just enough to keep him hovering on the brink. Sam did this twice in a row and by third time, Dean was panting and pulling at his silky chestnut hair.   
  
“You’re killin’ me,” he breathed, his voice trembling. “You know I fucking _hate_ being teased.”  
  
“You deserve it,” Sam said and then he winked impishly. “In fact . . .” All of a sudden, Sam shifted his weight in such a way that he tossed Dean off balance. He landed backward on the bed with his thighs spread open to Sam’s chest. They looked at each other and laughed, both breathing hard.  
  
“What now, Sammy?” Dean said, making a weak attempt at regaining the control position. He didn’t really want it, he just thought he should act like he did.  
  
Sam grinned and his moss colored eyes sparkled. Long chestnut bangs fell in his eyes, clumpy with sex sweat. “Do you want me to make you see stars?” he said.  
  
“You were right there, little brother!”  
  
Sam laughed. “No, I mean _new_ stars—from a whole different galaxy.”  
  
Dean’s brow twitched apprehensively. “Umm . . .” But before he could offer any protest, Sam’s long fingers gripped his hips and lifted him up a few inches off the bed.  
Wiggling until his knees were under him for support, Sam let Dean’s lower back down on top of his thighs, balancing his older brother with his legs akimbo.  
  
“Wait,” he said but it was too late. Sam stroked his brother’s exposed thighs, tickling the glimmering blond hairs there until every nerve in Dean’s body was humming. And then he licked his lips and dropped down between Dean’s butt cheeks.  
  
At first he couldn’t breath the sensation was so intense, but then his body overrode any objections his brain might have offered. Dean bit his lip and watched intently as Sammy’s hot pink tongue came out again and again, licking the unbelievably sensitive skin of Dean’s anus. Sam had his hips tilted up just enough for him to get a really good view of the goings on and Dean was mesmerized. The visual stimulation of seeing Sam perform this act was almost more erotic than the feeling of it. Almost.  
  
“Oh my god,” he heard himself gasp and Sam’s eyes twinkled.   
  
“Told you, ya big baby,” he said, his hot breath on Dean’s spit-wet tender parts adding to the mind-blowing stimulation. “Just relax. Let yourself enjoy it.” And then that wicked tongue was at work again, swirling and licking hot circles around and around that most private flesh.  
  
Dean could hear his heartbeat in his ears, thudding louder by the second. It felt as though his blood was racing from every other part of his body to the spot where Sam’s tongue kept touching him. Every nerve reached toward that exquisite pleasure. He felt dizzy and hot and like he might pass out and he heard himself moaning just under his breath. The sound was almost a whimper and utterly supplicating. Dean didn’t care.  
  
Sam’s eyes never left his, holding his gaze with keen intensity. His tongue changed direction at one point, swirling counter-clockwise around that tense rosebud. Dean moaned and then he felt Sam’s hot lips press kisses into the warm flesh of his cheeks. Sam brushed his nose in the wispy dark blond hairs just under Dean’s balls and he breathed in deeply.  
  
“God, I cannot believe how good you taste,” he said and then he was licking again.  
  
Dean’s body began to quiver and he reached for Sam’s knees with his fingers, holding on tight. He felt like he _had_ to hold on to something or he might be ejected off the planet. The tops of his thighs rested on his chest and he glanced down at his straining, blood-dark cock just in time to see it kick and ooze pre-come all over his belly. He was so aroused and reeling with carnal pleasure, he knew he was going to shoot without ever touching himself.   
  
Sam’s wet tongue wriggled in a tight, insistent circle around his anus and then suddenly Dean felt a wave of heat wash over his entire body. It took him a moment to realize what had happened, but when he looked down at his brother’s face again, everything made sense. Sam’s tongue was inside him. Dean came instantly.   
  
The orgasm was like a car crash in slow motion, roaring and tumbling around him, spinning him in what felt like end over end motion. Dean heard himself yelling and felt his body convulsing but he had absolutely no control over any of that. The only thing that felt remotely grounded were his fingers gripping Sam’s knees and that hot, rigid tongue impaling him in that secret opening. He could feel every tiny thing that tongue did—every flick and wiggle, every stroke and slide—but he couldn’t feel his own limbs. He felt Sam’s lips pressed against the tight ring of muscle on the outside and then that tongue so deep inside, rubbing, plunging and licking the soft places—but there was nothing else. The spasms were so intense they almost hurt and if Sam hadn’t held onto him as tightly as he did, Dean was certain he would have blacked out.  
  
Truth be told, things did go a little gray for a minute or two.  
  
Somewhere in that floating slumber, Dean heard voices. He tried to focus on them, to understand what they were saying, but they were so far away. His own laboring breath seemed to be drowning them out. He thought he heard Sam speaking to him, softly murmuring their private, enigmatic language of sensual tones in his left ear, but he couldn’t be sure. He could smell Sammy’s warm male body, the luscious aroma of arousal clinging to his damp skin. Dean’s mouth was wet then and his tingling lips needed to be kissed.   
  
He surfaced to full consciousness very slowly, breathing deep and sweating on the prickly motel bedspread with Sammy lying beside him, soothing him, petting his hair, whispering. As things began to make sense again, Dean could feel his spent semen cooling on his naked belly. He touched it absently, playing with the slick liquid like finger paint. After a few moments, his eyes opened and the first thing he saw was Sam. His little brother was smiling at him.  
  
“Fun, huh?” he said and then they were kissing, slow and sweet. Dean could taste himself on Sam’s lips, on his tongue. The new flavor was bittersweet, musky and raw. Not at all what he’d expected. He sucked at Sam’s lips, getting his own taste in his mouth, learning it, exploring it, accepting it. He’d be lying if he said he didn’t like it just a little bit.  
  
“Where’d you learn how to do that?” he whispered, stroking Sammy’s satiny, sweaty hair.   
  
“A book,” the younger man said.  
  
Dean squinted. “What, some porn mag?”  
  
Sam laughed. “No, Dean. A _textbook_ on sexual techniques, not a porn magazine.”  
  
Offering his characteristic lopsided grin, Dean said, “Sammy, that’s the porniest thing you’ve ever done to me.”  
  
Sam winked at him. “So far.”  
  
The motel phone rang then, startling them both in the quiet room. They stared at it through two full rings, as though they couldn’t figure out what it was. Finally, Sam sat up and grabbed the receiver.  
  
“Hello?” he said, turning back to look at Dean.  
  
Dean lifted up on his elbows, waiting to hear the conversation.  
  
“Yes,” Sam went on in his most official, college-boy voice. “Oh . . .yes. Right. I . . . was watching a horror movie. I guess I had the TV on too loud. Sorry to cause any concern, everything’s fine. Right. Okay. Thanks for checking.” He hung up, turned to his brother and then they burst out laughing.  
  
“Was that the front desk?” Dean asked.  
  
“Yeah. The people in the next room called the manager saying it sounded like someone was being murdered in here.” He crawled back to lie down beside Dean, both of them still chuckling.   
  
“I _did_ almost die,” Dean said, snuggling close to Sam’s warm, lean-muscled body.   
  
“What a way to go,” Sam whispered to him, kissing the pleasurably ticklish skin below his ear.   
  
Dean nuzzled his brother’s fine chin stubble lazily, brushing his nose and lips over it again and again, smelling him, swallowing the scent. The sensation made his nipples tingle. “Seriously, Sammy,” he said. “Where did you acquire that wicked trick?”  
  
“I told you. I read it in a book.” Sam tucked his long left leg between both of Dean’s and pressed close for warmth. The room wasn’t cold, exactly, just a little bit chilly. And they were both still damp with perspiration. “You’d be amazed at what’s out there in print and on the internet.”  
  
“Well, the internet I know about,” Dean snarked.  
  
“Again, I don’t mean porn.” Sam rolled his eyes.  
  
“I’m sure you don’t. What book was it that taught you this fun and interesting new skill, young man? The Joy of Brother Incest?”  
  
“No.” Sam grinned. “But I have read extensively on that subject, as well.”  
  
“Have you, now?”  
  
“Of course. It pertains directly to my experience so . . . why wouldn’t I want to research it?” His long fingers found that silky thatch of golden hairs below Dean’s navel and played there while he spoke. “Apparently, the particular dynamics of our relationship aren’t all that uncommon. Especially for siblings raised in a high stress environment, like we were.”  
  
Dean’s brow furrowed. “What was so stressful about it?”  
  
Sam’s brow arched. “You are joking, right?”  
  
The older brother shrugged, his jaw tightening a little. He truly detested wrangling this topic with his kid brother. It always ended in a fight and Dean didn’t feel like fighting just then. Thanks to Sam’s recent ministrations, his body was in an entirely different mode.  
  
“Dean, our father raised us to be hunters and killers.”  
  
“Of evil things,” Dean reminded him, once again irritated by Sam’s refusal to grasp the enormous significance of that fact.   
  
“We were children!” Those beautiful green eyes widened and implored him with the same emphatic question Samuel Winchester had been asking since he was old enough to talk. _Why us?_  
  
“Sammy,” Dean sighed. He really, really did not want to fight. “Okay, we were children. It was fucked up then and it’s more fucked up now. Can we just . . . NOT do this tonight? Please? After everything that’s happened these last few days . . . I’m just freakin’ exhausted!” Dean’s turn to make with the wide imploring green eyes.   
  
He knew that if he could make Sam believe he was too weary, too drained, too wrung out to discuss this tedious topic, that his loving little brother would let him off the hook. At least that’s how it used to be. Dean never enjoyed manipulating Sam, but basic emotional necessity had forced him to learn how. Sam’s hold on him was so strong, that sometimes Dean just had to cut and run to survive.   
  
Whether because of their physical proximity or Dean’s vulnerable nakedness, Sam did in fact relent. His sweet young face softened and he settled down on the bed with his forehead tucked in under Dean’s chin. This was their safest, most familiar position and they unconsciously returned to it again and again. When Sam was a baby and Dean would crawl into his crib at night, that was how John would find them in the morning.  
  
“All right,” Sam said in a small boyish voice. “I’m pretty freakin’ exhausted, myself.”  
  
Winding his fingers into Sam’s soft hair, Dean sighed. “Thank you.”   
  
For a while, they just laid there in the quiet room, hands slowly tracing lines and circles over each other’s bodies. Dean’s fingers were up underneath the stretched out, faded t-shirt Sam still wore, gently toying with the fluffs of hair that decorated his brother’s tender nipples. Sam gave him loose, wet kisses and sucked so gently on his bottom lip, making Dean’s skin feel like it was shimmering with heat. Sam still tasted of his brother’s most secret parts and the more Dean’s tongue savored the new flavor, the more he enjoyed it. It was so utterly primal. It was something taboo in a place where taboo had lost its meaning. Dean liked that best about it.  
  
“You need to be naked,” he whispered, shifting so he could get his hands on Sam’s open jeans. He divested his brother of all his remaining clothing in no time and then they crawled under the covers on the freshly made motel bed. There, where it was warm and dark, they wrapped around each other like they’d done a million times before, knowing just which limb fit into just which welcoming space.   
  
They traded slippery, suckling kisses until their cocks swelled against each other, full of pulsing blood and dripping from the tips. Dean’s eyes were heavy from exhaustion but his body trembled with desire. He rolled on top of Sam, pinning him gently and sliding down between his legs until those long, silky thighs opened around Dean’s head. He pressed his face into Sam’s fluffy light brown pubic hair and breathed in greedily. Sam’s skin was hot and damp, ripe with the scent of arousal and sex sweat. Dean’s mouth watered.  
  
“Remember the first time you sucked me off?” Sam purred, his fingertips stroking Dean’s earlobes.  
  
Running his tongue along the wet head of Sam’s cock, he lifted his focus to his brother’s and grinned. “I do, but you don’t.”  
  
“What’re you talkin’ about, man?” Sam said. “I remember it like it happened this morning.”  
  
Dean nodded, but said nothing else. He opened his mouth wide and engulfed Sam’s erection with heat and moisture, drawing on it in long, slow sucks. Those lean hips shuddered under him and he smiled when Sammy groaned. Dean could feel his brother’s desperate attempt to keep control, but they both knew he didn’t stand a chance. Sam never lasted more than a few seconds with Dean’s beloved lips on his cock.   
  
Breathing deep, Dean let himself get lost in exquisite oral pleasure. Sam’s cock was like wet steel in his mouth, silky and rigid, hot on his tongue. He sucked gently, hoping to prolong their connection because he needed it to last. The blankets almost covered his head and with his eyes closed and Sam’s scrumptious cock quivering in his mouth, Dean felt like he was tucked away in a protected bunker. His brother’s pulse and the warm, musky fragrance of his smooth skin made Dean moan and reach for his own cock under the motel sheets.   
  
As soon as he touched himself, the tiny shred of the outside world still intruding under the sheets just melted away. Dean slid into that blissful erotic conundrum of being aroused by giving pleasure and the struggle to keep his concentration took over his focus. It was imperative that they ride this wave together at the exact same time. That was the only way it really satisfied them.   
  
Sam moaned and trembled, scratched at Dean’s hair, pumped his cock in and out of his brother’s warm, sucking mouth and Dean greedily swallowed all Sam’s flowing essence. Their movements became a mechanism of instinct, giving and taking in time-tested rhythm. When Sam froze beneath him, Dean’s body reacted instantly and raced forward to join his brother’s climax. Perfectly in tune, they met at the same second and just as Dean’s mouth was flooded with fruit-salty cream, his own spilled over his stroking fingers. John Winchester’s sons cradled each other in that bright flash of pleasure until it subsided, leaving them panting in a sated heap of sweaty, powerful limbs.  
  
Dean rested his head on Sam’s belly, listening to his brother breathe. Their activities had generated a great deal of heat under the blankets and it soothed his entire body, relaxing him. His insides were warm and tingling with the chemical afterburn of a deep orgasm and he knew he’d be asleep in seconds. Sam’s fingers stroked his neck, tickling him, keeping him conscious.  
  
“Don’t pass out down there,” he whispered, gently tugging Dean’s arm.  
  
“Dude, I’m so comfortable. Leave me alone,” he murmured from under the covers.  
  
Sam tugged again and Dean groaned peevishly, shimmying up his brother’s body until he was lying beside him. The light from the lamp on the night table made him squint. “I like it down there. Why can’t I sleep there?”  
  
“Because I’ll kick you in the head,” Sam said, reaching over him to turn off that offending lamp. “And if I’m gonna kick you in the head, dude, I don’t want to sleep through it.” He flashed a grin then settled down in the pillows, opening his arms for Dean to snuggle up.  
  
“Bitch,” Dean muttered, folding himself into his brother’s deliciously warm body. He took a deep breath, filling his mouth and nose with Sam’s scent before he found a comfy spot to tuck his head.   
  
“I beg to differ,” Sam teased. “I finally got my tongue up your ass, Dean. You’re _my_ bitch now.”  
  
“Uh huh.” Dean tried to ignore the remark, even though it stung slightly. The worst part about it was the way his body twitched with desire at the mere mention of that new and uncharted pleasure.   
  
The whole time Sam had him upended on the bed controlling him utterly with his deft oral skills, Dean’s body had been crying out for more. That wriggling tongue had been a vicious appetizer, stoking his long-present desire for a deep, rough penetration. He knew he was precariously close to breaking that decade old promise to his father. The lure of crossing that most dangerous line loomed large.  
  
Sam’s steady heartbeat under his ear was a soft metronome, pulsing and lulling him to sleep. The last thing that went through Dean Winchester’s mind that night was so disturbing and vivid it seemed as though he’d walked back in time right into another reality. The reality of a boy on the edge of sixteen being reprimanded by his terrified father. Dean could even smell the bacon frying in the diner’s kitchen.  
  
_“Then promise me,” John Winchester had said. “You won’t let it go there. If you two start doing THAT . . . then . . . it’s a real problem. I can’t do anything about all this touchy-feely exploration, that’s just . . . something I have to accept. It’s natural. But you gotta promise me that you’ll stop it before it EVER goes that far.” He’d held Dean’s gaze like a vice grip. “Do you promise?”_  
  
“Yes, Dad.”  
  
“Say you promise. Say that exact word because it MEANS something.”  
  
Dean had swallowed hard again. “I promise.”  
  
His sleep that night was fitful, but only way down deep in the dark corners of his soul. Dean’s body lay still and peaceful in his brother’s embrace until Sam woke up in the morning.  
  
  
(more soon)


End file.
